


full of it

by woodscommaelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodscommaelle/pseuds/woodscommaelle
Summary: In Hermione's mind, her dressing gown was perfectly acceptable. To Draco however, it was the worst garment he had ever seen ("which is saying something Granger, because you regularly force me to be in Potter's company"); an affront to all things fashionable and stylish; a walking fire hazard; the sartorial embodiment of the Cruciatus curse and so on, and so forth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following prompt: **“Person A and B sharing a large dressing gown and a hot chocolate on a cold morning.”** From here: http://promptsfordays.tumblr.com/post/124004876192/entesi-i-warn-you-do-not-imagine-your-otp
> 
> Not betaed, so any mistakes are all mine. The title might be a little unimaginative but it was either that or "turn me on with your electric blanket" so.

Draco Malfoy was full of shit. Hermione had always known it, from their very first year at Hogwarts, and was still being proven right sixteen years later. 

Out of the three years of their relationship, Hermione had spent two and a half of them listening to Draco despair over her "monstrosity" of a dressing gown. The first six months had been free of such comments, but only because Draco had been in denial that they were in a relationship and so hadn't stayed in her flat long enough to spot the item of clothing. When he had finally gotten his head out of his arse and accepted that they were in fact, in a relationship, and a serious one at that, he’d started spending more and more time at her flat and had finally set eyes on it. 

In Hermione's mind, her dressing gown was perfectly acceptable. It was bright blue with different coloured polka dots, oversized despite her having owned it since she was a teenager, had a sash which she could use to cinch it round her waist and, most importantly, was the fluffiest, cosiest, warmest piece of clothing she owned. It was perfect for the cold nights on her lumpy sofa while she drowned herself in paperwork and for the mornings before work when she pottered round the kitchen making tea and burning toast. It held fond memories of nights in her childhood bedroom pretending to be asleep but reading yet another book and of nights in front of the common room fire with Harry and Ron at Hogwarts. It helped soothe her (along with a tub of Ben & Jerry's) when she and Ron had decided to split up a few months after he started Auror training and kept her warm when she had frantically dashed to St. Mungo’s at 2am to be there when Ginny gave birth to James. The dressing gown was almost like an old friend. 

To Draco however, it was the worst garment he had ever seen ("which is saying something Granger, because you regularly force me to be in Potter's company"); an affront to all things fashionable and stylish; a walking fire hazard; the sartorial embodiment of the Cruciatus curse and so on, and so forth. He had tried, in vain, to get her to stop wearing it. 

He hid it constantly and feigned surprise when she inevitably found it under the bed, at the back of her wardrobe, or on one occasion, shrunk down to half the size and stashed in her freezer next to the peas (Hermione had hexed Draco’s hair Chudley Cannons orange as payback and Ron had nearly wet himself laughing when he had seen). He bought her what he thought was a suitable replacement – a delicate, silky, kimono style robe very similar to his own – which was beautiful but couldn’t keep Hermione warm even on the mildest of days. He insisted that if she was so cold all the time she could cast a warming charm and when she explained that it wasn’t the same, he went and bought her an electric blanket. While she was secretly pleased that he had thought to purchase her something Muggle she continued to wear the dressing gown and the blanket ended up mainly used by Draco, who fervently denied any such thing when Hermione would tease him about it. For a time he instituted a no-clothes-in-the-flat-after-9pm rule and “punished” her when she would break it. Hermione hadn’t been bothered by this latest scheme of Draco’s but Harry certainly had when he stuck his head through the Floo to inform them of Albus’ birth. 

In short, Draco had spent a lot of time and energy trying to be rid of the thing, so to say that Hermione was shocked when she walked into their bedroom one morning and found him wearing it was an understatement. Since she wasn’t a fan of theatrics like Draco, the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in her hands didn’t crash to the floor. Instead they were carefully placed on the chest of drawers so that Hermione could bring her hands to her hips in a gesture Draco had become as accustomed to as Harry and Ron were. Draco was perched on the window seat with his back to her; looking out of the window as if he was the brooding male lead in a film (he did this often, but like the electric blanket denied it when Hermione said anything) so he couldn’t see her mentally preparing herself to lecture him, but somehow he sensed it.

“Not a word Granger, I’m quite enjoying the peace and quiet for once.” 

He turned his head to look at her, saw her hands placed on her hips and nodded to himself as if that confirmed what he had expected to see.

“But you-“

“Shh!”

“But-“

“Hush, please!”

Hermione crossed the room in quick steps and covered his mouth with her hand.

“I’ll bloody hush you! You’re wearing my dressing gown! The one you’ve been insulting for Merlin knows how long since it’s apparently so dreadful. The one you put in the bloody freezer and which hasn’t quite been the same since I had to use the flipping hair dryer on it and un-shrink it!”

Draco nipped at her hand with his teeth and she reluctantly removed it, leaving him free to respond.

“If it hasn’t been quite the same since then why have you insisted on wearing it constantly?” He crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow at her, looking every bit the haughty brat he had once been at Hogwarts. 

“That’s the bit you choose to focus on! Really?” 

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question, why don’t you stop wearing it, hmm? My eyes would finally get a rest from being assaulted!”

“I cannot believe you’re saying this while wearing the dressing gown. Do you hear yourself?”

“I can hear myself perfectly well, Granger. I do have a set of working ears.” He smirked when she threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Draco. Why. Are. You. Wearing. It?”

“My my, have we already skipped to the part where you talk in one word sentences?”

Hermione growled, and Draco laughed.

“Darling, no need to Hulk out. If you must know, the eclectic blanket is broken and the bed was really cold without you, so I put it on. That’s all.” He shrugged casually and brushed past her to get the hot chocolates.

Hermione noted the Hulk reference and filed it away for a later discussion. She _knew_ he had been watching Muggle films without her, despite insisting he only put up with the TV because of her. She’d been trying to catch him in the act for the last few months, uncharacteristically leaving work early and bursting through the door unannounced to see if he had the telly on when she wasn’t there, but he’d be singing along tunelessly to the Wireless or flicking through a Quidditch magazine instead. Since they hadn’t watched any of the Marvel universe films together (or any superhero films, for that matter, Hermione had little love for them) that was her confirmation that she was right. And she was right about him being full of shit too, just like she had been at the tender age of eleven, because the electric blanket had been working when she’d left the room to make the hot chocolates in the first place.

“It’s _electric_ , not eclectic,” she corrected. He rolled his eyes and sat back down on the window seat.

“And the blanket was working ten minutes ago. Also, if you were so cold without me, why leave the bed at all?” 

He opened his mouth to reply but Hermione held her hand up.

“Actually, you know what? I don’t want to hear it. I think you’ve secretly loved my dressing gown this whole time and wanted your own.” Draco spluttered and scrunched his face up in indignation. 

“No, I’m right. Because if you truly hated it so much, you easily could have vanished it or set it on fire or transfigured it into a Slytherin scarf like you did with that nice skirt I used to wear to work.”

“That skirt was _not_ nice, it did absolutely nothing for your figure, which is quite the achievement since I reckon you’d look lovely in a bin b-“ He broke off when he saw the smug smile on Hermione’s face. 

“Anyway, that’s beside the point, I put that bloody gown in the freezer!” 

“Ahh, but that’s fixable.” 

“Just minutes ago you insinuated otherwise!”

Hermione walked to stand between his legs. She bent forward so her mouth was brushing his, and trailed her hands down his sides, laughing inwardly at how quickly he became distracted from the topic at hand. When he pressed forward slightly so they were kissing properly, she got lost in the kiss for a bit, before quickly untying the sash at his waist. She went to tug the gown off him, but he finally realized what was going on and broke the kiss, darting away from her hands. 

“If you hate my dressing gown so much, why won’t you let me take it off you?” Hermione asked, as Draco continued to squirm away from her efforts to take the robe back. 

They ended up wrestling over it on the floor, breathless from laughter. Draco had her pinned underneath him, holding the gown aloft in one hand when Hermione wriggled her legs free and locked them around his waist, rolling them over. She was half tempted to roll her eyes, that move always worked because he got so distracted by her legs around him. She plucked the robe out of his hand and quickly scrambled off him, putting the dressing gown on triumphantly. Hermione plonked herself down on the window seat and grinned when Draco glared at her and picked himself up from the floor.

“Now Draco. I’m only doing you a favour. Wouldn’t want your reputation as Witch Weekly’s _Best Dressed Wizard_ two years in a row to be tarnished by such a monstrosity, would we? What would all those eligible witches out there say if they saw you?” 

Draco frowned briefly as he sat beside her. 

“Why should I care about eligible witches? I’m with you.”

“How sweet Malfoy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You still call me Granger.”

“That’s different.”

“Of course it is,” Hermione sighed. He was full of it. Yet Morgana help her, she loved it, loved him.

She untied the sash at her waist and held out one edge of the gown to him. Draco looked at her closely for a second, and then moved nearer so she could wrap it around the both of them. They retrieved their now lukewarm drinks and took sips in silence.

Of course it didn’t take long before Draco broke it.

“If you must know, _Hermione_ , the reason I didn’t get rid of it for good is because I know you love the thing. Dreadful as it is, I would never permanently deprive you of something you clearly hold dear.” 

He smiled at her softly and she smiled back.

“And I truly was wearing it because the blanket broke. It’s freezing today. That’s why I didn’t want to give it up.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“All right, fine” Draco tried to throw his arms up in exasperation but was thwarted by the dressing gown wrapped around him. “I was wearing it because it smells like you, okay? And that’s the real reason I didn’t want to give it back.” Little patches of pink bloomed on his cheeks.

“It’s god awful and a blight on the eyes but it smells like you. And that’s… you know, nice.”

“How eloquent, Mr Malfoy. And how interesting that you can’t be without me for even ten minutes, to the point where you have to wear my clothes so you can smell me! For a man that couldn’t even accept we were in a relationship for the first six months of it, that’s progress!”

“Merlin, you are just so…” Draco trailed off as he threw the gown off the both of them and grabbed Hermione round the waist. 

“I’m so…?” Hermione questioned. 

Draco pulled her to him so their faces were inches from each other. 

“Insufferable,” Draco whispered into her mouth. “Just like your dressing gown.”

Because Hermione knew Draco Malfoy was full of shit, she knew what he really meant and just kissed him back.

_I love you too, you idiot._


End file.
